Broad, work-hardened shoulders and chest, firm abs, a nice masculine dusting of hair across his pecs that narrowed to an arrow that shot straight down his belly and into his pants. She couldn’t touch him enough—she wanted to feel every inch of him. Part of her was appalled at her behavior. She’d picked up a stranger at a party and brought him home, and couldn’t keep her hands off him. She was about to have sex with him in her kitchen, for God’s sake. But, she’d probably never see him again and sweet baby Jesus, he was hot.
Before she’d had her fill of exploring his body, he reached down to grab her by the butt cheeks, which made her squeal, and hiked her up onto the counter.
“We have a situation here, Mindy.” His voice had a strained, husky quality to it that made her belly flutter.
“Oh? You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Well, given how much I’d really like to be inside you right now, the fact that I have no condoms with me, is a pretty big problem.”
“I thought every man carried a spare?”
“Myth. I didn’t anticipate needing any.”
“That’s not very thorough preparation for a SEAL.”
He nodded, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Roger that.”
“I don’t have any, either.”
He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, his warm breath raising tingly gooseflesh on her skin. “Mmmm…” Melinda had let go and sunk into the sensations of his tongue on her neck, until a draft of cooler air breezed over her thighs and she realized he’d bunched her skirt up into her lap, exposing her wet panties. “What are you doing?”
“Finishing what I started.”
He scooted her to the edge of the counter and with one finger reached in and pushed the crotch of her panties aside, exposing her sex to the open air. He swirled his fingers in her folds before inserting first one, then a second finger inside of her.
She made an inarticulate sound of pleasure, and grabbed hold of his shoulders for support. She licked her lips and swallowed hard, and tried to focus on the words that had formed in her brain, but damn, his fingers were made of magic.
“Grady,” she said, her voice a breathy wheeze of need.
“Hmm?”
“IUD.”
“What?”
“I. Have. An. IUD.”
“Thank you modern medicine.”
She didn’t have the wherewithal to tell him the concept of IUDs wasn’t all that modern. Instead, she used her remaining bit of focus—and her greedy desire to have him in her right now—to grab hold of his belt and fumble to get the damn thing open. It resisted her efforts at first, but she soldiered on—not an easy thing since he’d resumed fingering her and added a thumb caress of her clit that pretty much blew what little brain function she had left.
When his pants didn’t cooperate she abandoned the effort with a disgusted grunt, which only made him laugh.
“Problem?” he asked.
“You’ve robbed me of fine motor function.” He responded with a hard rub of her clit, wringing a deep moan from her throat. “Lose the pants, sailor,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
His fingers left her folds, but in record time he replaced them with the tip of his cock—a major improvement.
She wrapped her legs around his lower back and pulled him toward her, sliding his cock inside her in one neat, tidy move.
He closed his eyes and expressed his approval with a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through their connected bodies until she felt it in her bones.
“Jesus, Mindy, you feel good.” He choked the words out and to her ears they sounded so raw and earnest that a little piece of her heart melted.
She didn’t need a melted heart, though, especially for a man who’d be leaving in a week or so. Hell, she didn’t even know how long he’d be in Coronado. She didn’t really know anything about him, other than his cock was currently inside her vadge and it felt better than anything she’d experienced in ages.
He pulled out, a long slow motion, then thrust back in setting a pace that started out delicious and languorous. As her breath started coming in fast, quick pants and her body spasmed around him, he picked up the pace.
Her orgasm lurked, but didn’t come, leaving her a needy, mewling mess until he reached between them and fingered her clit again. Suddenly her body charged as if shocked by a shot of lusty adrenaline, and it only took another couple of thrusts before her orgasm broke like a wave rolling into shore. He pulled back one last time and thrust hard for his own climax. Using her ankles at the small of his back, she held him tight against her, clinging to the vestiges of her orgasm as it faded.
It usually disappointed her that sex seemed to be a whole lot of build-up and effort for a few seconds of transcendence. This time, though, it had been different. Worth it. It had been an electric connection, a clicking that brought them into alignment, then a fast, hot flash of action and a few blazing seconds where time stopped and they’d hung in that frozen moment combined as one.
In short, the earth moved in ways she’d never experienced before.
Damn.
Buck woke in Mindy’s bed the next morning, naked and as relaxed as he’d been in a long time. Hours of athletic sex could do that for a guy.
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand—a little after nine. It was Sunday, but he still had work later in the afternoon. Until then, though, he had no other obligations and he was happy to linger for a while with Mindy.
She still slept, breathing just heavily enough to be an almost-snore and lying flat on her belly with her long, brunette curls and waves fanned around her head in a gorgeous tangled mess. The sheet covered her sprawled legs and one ass cheek, the other peeking out from under the edge round, firm, and delicious.
Mr. Wiggles had curled up between Buck and Mindy, either protecting his mistress, or comfortable enough with Buck to make himself at home.
“Listen, cat, I like you, but you’re in my way. I want to sex up your mama.”
Buck scratched the cat under the chin, and Wiggles rolled over onto his back in a shameless effort to expose his tummy for attention. Buck rubbed the cat’s belly, figuring it couldn’t hurt to stay on its good side. Eventually, though, he’d had enough.
“Okay, shoo, cat.”
He gave Wiggles a shove and he left with an indignant mew. After he did, Buck leaned down and kissed Mindy’s ass, resisting the urge to bite or give it a gentle slap. Instead, she grumbled a little in her sleep, but shifted position and went back to heavy breathing.
As much as he really did want to sex Mindy up again, Buck climbed out of bed and searched the floor for his pants, dragging them on as he headed for the bathroom where he peed, and splashed water on his face. He’d shower when he got back to base. When he glanced in the mirror, his reflection looked more relaxed than he remembered. His job lent itself to stress, especially days that required him to defuse shit that could possibly blow up in his face. But in general he considered himself pretty laid back. Mindy made him feel even better.
He went to the kitchen, stretching and scratching as he did, in search of a coffeemaker. He needed caffeine. Instead of a standard coffeemaker, he found some strange contraption that looked like something out of a steampunk graphic novel.
“What’s the matter, they don’t have French presses in the Navy?” Mindy said.
Buck glanced back at her, then did a comical double-take. She leaned a shoulder on the door jam, wearing only a little pair of bikini panties and a white tank top. She’d crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them up in the thin fabric, the darkness—and hardness—of her nipples showing through.
Robbed for a moment of the power of speech when too much blood rushed from his brain to his rising cock, he finally managed to fire a couple of synapses. “Um, no. Just big silver urns.”
She pushed off the wall and strolled up next to him to load and lock the coffee thing. “Okay. We’ll let it set for a couple of minutes, then—coffee.”
Closing the few inches between them, he lifted a finger and barely touched the tip to the skin of her shoulder, before caressing over the curve and down her biceps. He didn’t miss the chill bumps that rose in the wake of his touch. “You should probably put some clothes on.”
“Why?”
“Because I worked up an appetite last night and I’d like some breakfast, but if you keep standing here half naked with your nipples on display, we’ll be going another round before we can even pour this coffee.”
She looked like she wanted to dare him into the sex, but her stomach rumbled taking the wind out of her argument.
“Okay. We should probably refuel, anyway,” she said. “I have supplies for bacon and eggs, cereal, toast, yogurt. I don’t know what you like to eat in the morning, so I guess help yourself to whatever you can find in the fridge.”
He’d need a lot of energy for later in the day, especially after burning so much yesterday, but he didn’t want to clean her out, either. “You have supplies for PB and J?”
“Seriously, you’re welcome to a hot breakfast. I mean, you definitely earned it.”
She waggled her brows at him and his gaze drifted down to her nipples again. “PB and J is fine,” he said. “And you need to put clothes on now or I’m going to lay you out on this table and take you right now.”
“Hmm,” she said. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m hungry, too. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
Buck stuck his head in the fridge to find some food while his demanding belly gurgled.
After some digging, he found blackberry jam, all natural peanut butter, and some hearty whole grain bread. He poured himself a large glass of milk—he still had no idea about the French press, regardless of how great the coffee smelled—and started assembling three big PB and J sandwiches.
“You were serious about the sandwiches?” Mindy asked. Her new outfit of loose gray sweats and a tight gray t-shirt didn’t do much to relieve the nipple situation.
“Mm-hmm. I love PB and J. And blackberry jam is my favorite. Wild blackberry vines used to grow crazy around the creek on my parents’ property, and every summer me and my sisters would pick them until our fingers turned purple, then mama would make enough blackberry jam to last until the next summer, when we’d do it all over again.”
He shoved the corner of a sandwich into his mouth to stop himself from telling more stories of home. Talking about that stuff, even the good memories, only led to thinking about his mom and the cancer and everything usually went downhill from there. It was easier not to think about it at all.
Instead, he watched Mindy work some black magic on the coffee press and pour cups for each of them. “Milk or sugar?”
He gave her a tight-lipped scowl. “Black,” he said. As if any self-respecting SEAL would add milk and sugar to his coffee.
She sipped her own black coffee as she slid open the silverware drawer and pulled out a butter knife to make sandwiches.
“I grew up in Northern California,” she said, closing the drawer with her hip. “My dad was a ranger. I followed him everywhere and learned all the biology and botany of the forests and mountains and high desert.”
She jammed two pieces of bread together, and licked peanut butter from her thumb.
“You have any siblings?” Buck asked.
“Nope. My parents thought they couldn’t have kids until I came along when mom was going through menopause. I shocked the hell out of them, but there were never two people happier to have a kid.”
“Sometimes I’d daydream about being an only child. I was the only boy in a herd of six girls. Right in the middle, too. Mama and Daddy knew something about reproducing.”
Mindy’s laugh filled the kitchen with the feeling of home. As much as he avoided talking about his family, her laughter reminded him of all his sisters, and their home and family before mama’s cancer. In that moment, he missed that feeling with an incredibly stab of longing.
But one look at Mindy made him feel anything but brotherly. There was a connection, something that mingled the lusty memories of the previous night with the peace and happiness of family.
He did a mental head shake. What the hell had come over him?
They took their pile of sandwiches, the gallon of milk, and their coffee, to the table.
“Is that why you joined the Navy? To get away from all the girls?” she asked.
Her question had a teasing tone, but she seemed to want a genuine answer. Something he couldn’t give without baring his soul. Which would never happen. He didn’t do vulnerable. “No. I could have stayed on at the ranch and raised thoroughbreds. I was good enough with the horses; mostly calming and communicating with them. I wasn’t so great at breaking or training them. And obviously I’m way too big to be a jockey, not that competing was our thing, really. We raised horses and sold them, bred them, and cared for and pastured retired racehorses. I joined the Navy because I wanted to do something important. Plus, I wanted to get away from Kentucky. See the world. Have some adventure.”
All of which was true, but not the complete truth. He left out the ugly stuff that nobody ever wanted to hear, and he didn’t want to share.
“And have you had any adventures?” she asked.
“Hell yes.”
“Like what?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
He shoved half a sandwich in his mouth, savoring the dense, grainy bread and all the jam he’d slathered on.
Mindy chuckled. “Trust me, I know how to keep a secret.”
“Oh?” The word came out garbled around the food in his mouth.
“You can’t be asking me what secrets? If I told you, they wouldn’t be secret anymore. Suffice it to say, the world of pharmaceutical chemistry is deeply classified.”
He snorted. “Okay, if you say so. Sounds more like a shallow nerd pond.”
“I bet I’ve been to more places in the world than you have, for the sake of my job.” Her jutted chin and teasing smirk made it difficult to tell if she was joking or sincere.
“Are you serious? I’m a SEAL. I’ve been almost everywhere for missions, training, R and R.”
“I’ve been to jungles and glaciers and everywhere in between searching for botanicals with pharmaceutical potential. Between drilling ice cores, climbing into the jungle canopy, and speaking at conferences, I’ve been just about everywhere, too.”
“Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”
Her little smug shrug made him smile.
“How do you speak at conferences if you have anxiety issues?”
“It’s not social. Put me on stage talking about my work, and I’m all good. Put me at the cocktail party afterwards and I’ll lose my mind.”
Buck finished his third sandwich and washed it down with the last of his milk. His belly was full, his libido sated, and he was as comfortable with a woman has he’d ever been. He was glad he’d gone to Wolf’s party. If he hadn’t, he’d never have met Mindy.
Unfortunately, duty called. “Listen. I have to get back to the base. We have maneuvers this afternoon. But I’d like to see you again.”
Mindy sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, holding her coffee cup between her hands. “How long are you going to be here?”
“Next weekend.”
“Okay. I’d be stupid to turn down fabulous sex and great company.”
“You would.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Okay, sailor, don’t get too cocky. Give me a call and we’ll set up a date.”
***
Melinda walked into her office at Triada Labs before seven on Monday morning, a little bleary-eyed, and with Buck still on her mind. She couldn’t shake that hypnotic aw-shucks Southern smile and charm and accent. Not that she wanted to. He was big, built, hot, and a SEAL, and appeared to like her despite her nerdiness and social anxiety.
He seemed so damned perfect, which made her wonder what was wrong with him. Nobody was perfect.
She dumped her purse in the drawer of her desk and checked the time on her phone. Jayla should have left on her latest mission by now. Melinda probably wasn’t supposed to know about Jayla’s CIA side job, but they’d been besties since grade school and told each other everything. Besides, Melinda could keep a secret. But she worried about Jayla just the same when she was gone.
Grabbing her lab coat from the hook on the back of the door, she shrugged into it then slid open the top drawer to grab a pen and her digital recorder for dictating progress reports.
The edge of an envelope peeked from the depths of the drawer. She stared at it for a moment before plopping into her chair and pulling the letter from the envelope to read it for the thousandth time.
It had been two months since her breakthrough. Triada—and eventually the CIA—had called it a breakthrough, but it had been more like a mistake she wished she’d never made. Searching for a cure, or at the very least an effective treatment for Alzheimer’s, instead she’d stumbled onto a real-life “Limitless” drug. Triada had named it Amaranthine and patented the shit out of it. It hadn’t taken long before government intelligence had come sniffing around and Triada had happily sold out.
The letter, on CIA letterhead, had come a week ago after they’d got a look at the compound and her research and couldn’t figure it out, so they’d offered her a job. Only, the letter hadn’t sounded so much like an offer as a command wrapped up in her patriotic duty.
She didn’t trust the government, and certainly not the CIA. When either or both of them got their hands on scientific advancements, they usually turned them into disasters. The Manhattan Project came to mind. Once she’d realized what she’d created in Amaranthine, she’d quit work on it immediately. It did incredible things for cognition, but just like Buck and horses, she was a drug whisperer of sorts. She ‘saw’ the formulas and effects spiral out in the air around her, and Amaranthine would cause more problems than benefits. If she took the job, she might be able to minimize the side effects. The drug was her responsibility, after all, even if everything she created at Triada belonged to the company. If she rejected the job, what kind of hack chemists would be working on it and making it into some Frankenstein’s monster drug?
Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Bang for the Buck (Kindle Worlds Novella) (SWAK Series Book 1) Page 3